Irised Sins
by Star'Lost11
Summary: "Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?" Lieselotte Potter had always felt her talents were a far cry from what she could have been. AU, Fem!Harry/Tom Riddle
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR.

Rating: T, maybe later M

Pairing: Fem!Harry/Tom Riddle

Summary: "Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?" Lieselotte Potter had always felt her talents were a far cry from what she could have been. AU, fem!Harry isn't afraid to be ruthless.

AN: Thanks for all the reviews and advice you gave me on ATF (Allusion to Fate)! It really made me want to start posting this one up. The chapters are much shorter (around 2,500 to 3,500 words) however, it will allow me to keep up on updates for both this and other fics which I'll be trying to keep up with. :3

I hope you like it!

* * *

The first time she realised she was only a marionette, Lieselotte had been peering into the tall, curved form of the mirror of Desire, Erised. She had been curious about the beautiful mirror that fed upon her mind and left her hollow and wishing for more and _more_. She knew what it did, drawing her inside, looking into her soul and pulling out the image of the very thing she wanted with all her heart. But she didn't understand the reflection it gave back to her. So, unlike the other times she had peaked inside, she stood in front of the mirror for a long time, her mouth twisted into a pretty pout. Something pulled at her mind, tugged and pinched. _Something wasn't right. _

The words echoed over and over inside her head until she had been dizzy. She remembered that feeling from when she had lived with the Dursleys, before she had escaped to the orphanage. It was a strange place to run to, but no matter how many times her case had been looked over by Child Protective Services, they never helped her. A man or woman would come to her aunt and uncle's house, and watched her with horrified expressions, and then never did anything about it. It had all been very strange, and anywhere was better than with _them_. So she had run, conjured up some sob story about her being abandoned, and was taken pity on, just like she had expected.

Lieselotte had always been a good liar when she needed to be.

Life had been hard in that cold place, but she had food, and a place to sleep. She also had her _gifts_, something she kept secret, but used on anyone whose eyes glittered strangely when they started to watch her. Even as a young girl, when she was skinny and knobby from her aunt and uncle's 'care', her eyes had been a bright peridot, her sleek, raven hair twisted into perfect curls. Skin unblemished and pale, white as snow. She had a few scars, like the odd one on her forehead, and a few on her arms and stomach from various abuses, but none too horrific to detract from what she was.

When she had still gone to school in Surrey, they had once read a book of fairy tales. The teacher had read one about a princess named Snow White, whose father had doted upon her until he gained a wicked new wife that hated her desperately, and she wondered at how alike they were. Some of the girls in her class had even taken to calling her 'Snow', when they weren't too afraid of her cousin. But the more she thought on that story, the more she noticed that one detail. Snow had escaped; even when it was because of the Huntsman's mercy, not from her own doing, but Lieselotte didn't leave. She had no one saving her. Her huntsmans weren't merciful. They left her to rot instead.

So when she was eight and a quarter, she left her own cage.

But it was looking into the mirror that she felt chills; shivers that ran the length of her spine. It was her and a golden cage; like a one for a bird, and she was standing just outside of it, smiling slyly. It meant only one thing, and it scared her more than anything Lieselotte had seen since the Dursleys.

She still wasn't free. A new cage, pretty and new and glossy, but a cage nonetheless.

She had wanted to flee.

Then Dumbledore had appeared, only a specter in the shadows of the abandoned room.

He asked her what she saw, his strange pale eyes that flickered blue and twinkled when he was jubilant. When someone was important. Lieselotte had told him she saw her parents, her mother's flaming red mane of hair, and her father's proud smile. Her expression was void of anything but confusion, pretending not to understand what it meant. He had patted her head, and she had held back the feeling of wanting to hurt him, to use her gifts against him. Magic.

That man, the headmaster that had placed her in her abusive home, Dumbledore who was much too interested in her, he was the owner of the cage she had seen.

But he didn't hold the key that would set her free.

So she learned not to trust him, nor her newfound friendship in Ron Weasley, whose family saw the old headmaster as a god.

Hermione, who she had saved in the beginning of the year, became a true friend. Bossy, book obsessed, but most importantly, she kept her secrets. What Lieselotte truly did to the troll.

Accidental magic didn't break it's kneecaps. It took practice for such a thing, and for her living in an orphanage, it hadn't been optional. She had always known she was pretty, but in that place such a thing was dangerous, and more than once she had wished she had been born a boy. Less of a risk. It would have been easier to pretend to be uglier than she was, like she had seen some of the more prettier boy's do so. But she was what she was, so Lieselotte had made due with what she had to protect herself with.

An ability to break bones and manipulate people when she wanted to. She didn't like it, but that was all she had. She had even become numb to it, after a while. Some people just didn't let up.

It was the debacle from the trap door under the cerberus, that completely opened her eyes. She wasn't stupid, Lieselotte knew when she was being manipulated. She was very good at it herself. Dumbledore had wanted her to meet Voldemort, the man who murdered her parents. Trapped on the other side of another's head, she had found it all rather pathetic. And brilliant. His thirst for survival was formidable, at least.

And when the school year ended, and the man ordered her kindly back to the Dursley's, her distrust turned to an uneasy hatred. Lieselotte didn't go, of course. She made a whole play of leaving for her old address, then turning in the opposite direction for the orphanage when his spies left.

She wasn't going to induce hell onto herself. The orphanage was enough.

* * *

She was twelve years old, and she was queen of the orphanage. They just didn't know it.

If she wanted to leave, she did. If Lieselotte wanted to visit Hermione over the summer, she simply left a suggestion in their minds, and off she went. She had found out about that particular gift when she turned nine. Her usual breaking of bones or bruising hadn't worked on one of the more vicious bully's in the home. So in desperation, she had wished with all her might, searching and _seeking_ for the boy to just leave her alone. She found his mind instead.

So she left thoughts in his mind before she left, urges to simply leave her alone. It worked, and then new ideas littered inside, scattering across her thoughts.

_What if she could do it again?_

And that was how it all started.

She wasn't particularly prodigious in Transfiguration or Potions. Not brilliant, but good nonetheless. Charms was okay. History of Magic was horrible; but then she used that time to sleep instead, like the rest of the class.

She didn't know how well she would be at Defence, but she would guess it would have at her very best. She wasn't too sure, but then it would be Quirrelmort's fault for that loss of information. She found it ironic that a Dark Lord was teaching them defence against the very thing he was, but that didn't make her any less disappointed in not learning anything of use.

But it was in a subject they didn't teach, much less known, that she excelled at. The Mind Arts. Legilimency and Occlumency she quickly learned, and were the only two things technically still legal. Her method of suggestions and compulsions were not so legal.

She didn't misuse them, not in the way the headmaster used them. After catching onto _his_ own suggestions he left on her, she quickly made sure to have her walls up at all times.

Lieselotte let him keep thinking she was a natural occlumens.

On the train, she met up with Hermione. Ducking into an empty compartment, they giggled and hid from an irritated Ron. Neither of them liked him all that much anymore, but both had different reasons. Lieselotte was just fine with letting him go. She didn't want any sort of the headmaster's spies around her.

"What did you do after you stayed at my house? I didn't see you in Diagon either when I got my books."

Lieselotte met her friends curious eyes with a teasing light in her own, and spoke. "I'm wasn't there every day, Hermione. It would have been extremely unlikely we just simply 'ran into each other'."

A light blush found her cheeks, and she grinned all the more. "I didn't do all that much. I just read up on the this year's material and wandered around the Orphanage. Not much fun."

Hermione chewed on her lip, eyes narrowed slightly. Lieselotte recognised it as her 'thinking' look. Suddenly she was speaking, words tumbling out of her mouth in one big jumble.

"Do you want to just come stay with me next year? I mean it doesn't seem that you like it very much there and-"

She cut her off, laughing softly. Her face warmed slightly, and she smiled at her friend. "That would be wonderful. I'll have to talk to the matron though."

Hermione nodded enthusiastically, "I just thought it would be nicer for you. My parents were thinking of going to France? I didn't know if you'd be interested."

"Of course I would be! Thank you, 'mione." Lieselotte smiled widely, a fluttery feeling building in her throat. Not many muggles were as nice as her friend's parents. She was lucky to have them, Lieselotte knew. After watching the various types of people walk in and out of the orphanage, she knew what kind of people were out there. Just because they were adopting a child, didn't mean they were kind.

It didn't mean they were doing the kid a favor.

Hermione beamed, saying, "I can't wait for this year. I mean, it's all very exciting, don't you think? Last year was really more of an introduction, but this year will really be the start of everything."

"As long as the Defence Professor isn't out to get me, like Quirrelmort was," Lieselotte said morosely.

Her friend stopped, gaping for a moment. "Who?"

She choked on a laugh, "You know. Quirrell and Voldemort. Quirrelmort."

"Lieselotte, that's horrible," She exclaimed, poking a finger into her side. "Poor Quirrell. He was horrible, but to have You-Know-Who on the back of your head is just awful." She shivered, and Lieselotte was reminded once again of that night.

"_You are a very ssstrange child. Liessselotte, the Girl Who Lived, my vanquisher. What happened to the little Light that beats in your heart?"_

"Strange sort of man, Voldemort," She murmured. Somehow, she knew he wasn't evil the way Dumbledore put him out to be. Why else would more than half of the Wizarding World follow him if he was?

"What was that?" Hermione said, blinking. She forced a smile. "Nothing, just thinking."

Pursing her lips, she eyed the door. "We should probably get our robes on."

"Looking for Ron?" Lieselotte said.

She grimaced, "What if he comes bursting in here like usual?"

"We curse him halfway to death and back," She said, and they burst into low giggles.

Hermione took out her wand, and pointing it towards the door, she said, "**Colloportus**."

Lieselotte knew it to be the locking spell, and she nodded in satisfaction. Sometimes she thought her friend had a library in her brain. She could only just keep from peeking inside.

They got into their robes, and when the train finally pulled to a stop, it was dark outside the window.

"I'm so hungry," She moaned as they moved to the carriages. She took another step before stopping suddenly, her body frozen. There were two, giant skeleton-like horses staring into her eyes. She knew something was off about them, more than just their looks.

Because no one else looked afraid.

"Hermione," She said, pulling on her friend's sleeve, "What kind of horse looks like a skeleton with black skin and has wings?"

Hermione shot her a look, then was silent for a moment. Lieselotte knew the exact moment she got it, as her eyes lit up. "Thestrals, they can only be seen by someone who has seen death. Why did you ask?"

"Because they're pulling the carriages."

She paled, "Oh, well I'm sure it's perfectly safe." She paused. "I guess you can see them because of, you know ….your parents."

She shook her head, "I don't think so."

_Ben falling down the rickety old stairs, neck twisting at an odd angle, eyes hollow. _

Lieselotte flinched at the flash of memory. It had happened in the first year she had arrived at the orphanage; two boys had been playing at the top of the stairs, and Ben, the younger one, tripped on a toy and fell. It wasn't something she could ever forget.

After all, he had fallen right to her feet.

"Wh-who was it then? If you don't mind me asking?" Hermione said quietly. Her head turned at her voice, "A boy at the orphanage. He fell down the stairs."

"Oh." There was silence for a moment as they got into the carriage. When Lieselotte was settled comfortably into her seat, she leaned into the cool glass of the window and let her gaze wander.

"What do you think Snape will have us do?"

"Professor Snape, Lieselotte," Hermione corrected automatically, "Probably torture you will horrid questions from NEWTS."

She made a face, "He hates me for no reason other than it suits his obnoxious, horrible self."

"He is awful to you, isn't he?" She admitted. "You aren't even that bad at Potions, but he's always vanishing your potions and stuff."

Leaning back in the seat, she scowled even harder, "He really shouldn't be teaching. I don't know how Dumbledore ignores such blatant favoritism."

Lieselotte sighed, "Well, there's nothing to do about it. I just have to get through six more years of his immaturity."

She didn't understand why he hated her so much. When she had gone searching for answers the year before, peeking into his head after another round of snarls and taunting, she had found his occlumency shields. They were strong too,and all she could get was the image of her father's smirking face.

Lieselotte knew his anger stemmed from her father, but she just didn't know how. She sure wasn't going to ask him, either.

"I wonder what the Sorting Hat will sing tonight," Hermione said, interrupting her thoughts.

She chewed on her lip, humming a tune from the radio back at the orphanage.

"Lieselotte," She spoke again.

"Something strange, as usual." She rolled her eyes.

They got up to the castle, leaving behind their trunks and heading for their tables. Lieselotte briefly remembered her own sorting, when her eyes found the old, rickety bench and the hat lying on top. While she was happy in Gryffindor for the most part, the Hat had told her she was meant to be put in Slytherin. It only abided by her wishes of the lion house instead because it knew she wouldn't be welcome in the snake den. It would be like being back at the orphanage all over again.

The group of bunched together first years chattered nervously to one another, and Lieselotte smiled slightly. She saw what looked like Ron's younger sister. She had only met Ginny once, and she had a strange sort of heroine worship for the older girl. It had been actually sort of creepy, just in the way Ron had tried to be her friend for the money and her status. Lieselotte wished sometimes that she could have been born someone else, to not have been hated for the first eight years of her life, then have to keep herself safe in the orphanage, and on top of that, have an whole society practically worshiping the ground she walked on.

Being famous wasn't her idea of a life she wanted. Lieselotte just wanted to be left alone with her friends and learn about magic and grow up to do whatever she cared to do.

But then there was that part of her that did things like going down the trapdoor, taunting Voldemort. Secrets again. Fear, lashing out, pain burning-

She shook her head, ridding the thoughts that haunted her.

A small, pale boy tottered to the stool, skittering to a stop and plunking down with a gasp of breath.

Lieselotte looked over him dismissively, before turning her attention to the wall of windows to the outside. It was a clear night, the moon shining a pearly iridescent.

Second year would be starting soon, and another game would open up its doors, she had no doubt. If Dumbledore had created the trapdoor to have her meet Voldemort, then she was sure he would do it again.

It didn't sit well with her, his unnatural interest in her. His way of hiding things. Voldemort wanted her dead, but he didn't lie. Speaking in riddles, laughing deliriously when she brought Quirrell to the ground, breaking his bones. Not doubt he had thought he would be receiving an ignorant firstie, and instead met _her_.

Lieselotte had never been innocent. Never ignorant. And if this was what Dumbledore wanted, she would pick which game she would partake in.

That strange part of her seemed drawn to the Dark Lord, and she would meet him again, if only to find out the truth.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR.

Rating: T, maybe later M

Pairing: Fem!Harry/Tom Riddle

AN: Thanks for the reviews! These chapters are shorter but also they're faster as the 'real' story doesn't start until she's older. This is just the setup background for the bigger part, as second year is very important to this fic.

You can probably guess why. xD

* * *

Nothing in particular happened for the next few weeks.

Ron got progressively more furious, until he would hardly look at either her or Hermione, Dumbledore kept away, thankfully, and classes were the usual. True to her prediction, Snape hated her more than ever and tried every way to make her fail. It was lucky for her, though, that she wasn't terrible at potions. True, when Lieselotte got back her essays and corrected potions they were covered in red marks, but that was Snape's personal touch. Not her fault.

She found a sort of gruesome amusement in flashing perfect potions his way whenever she had finished before he got close enough to mark her down and vanish it. But that was normal. That happened the year before. It was happening for the second year as well. No doubt her Potion's professor would still hate her by seventh year.

The only interesting thing had been happening of late was Ron's younger sister, Ginny, who had been creeping after her, watching steadily.

It was a bit strange, but nothing too bad. Lieselotte was unfortunately used to people following her with their eyes, but those had been mostly men. Nasty, horrid men.

And then there was Lockhart, their idiot DADA professor that Hermione and the rest of the girls seemed to idolize. The only girl who didn't seem completely lovestruck other than her was Daphne Greengrass, the so called 'Ice Queen' of Slytherin. She would roll her eyes every time the fake professor would walk through the door, boasting about all the 'courageous' things he had done.

Which, as it turned out, he hadn't done a thing.

Lieselotte went picking through his brain one class, and found the only bit of magic he was good at was memory charms. Everything is his books were things other wizards or witches told him about, and then he had them obliviated to the point of a vegetable, so he wouldn't get caught. Nonetheless, he was a terrible teacher, and not for the first time Lieselotte wondered if the curse on the position was not just a horrible end by finals, but only having worthless teachers take the DADA job as well.

Lockhart seemed also to think because they were both celebrities, that they should stick together. He had spent the first week of school appearing out of nowhere, and telling her tales of how to keep her status up to standards. The moment she had a moment alone with him though, she urged the man to stay away from her, compelling him that it wouldn't be in his best interests if he didn't.

Lockhart thankfully didn't come back.

It was one morning on a stormy weekend, when Lieselotte went visiting the library. She quickly found the books she was looking for, and plopped into the chair by the nearest table.

Lieselotte wasn't too worried, but she knew Dumbledore would have no problem obviating her to save his end game, whatever that it was, so she was looking up ways to counteract the spell. So far, she wasn't having any luck, and coming up with a new spell was far beyond her.

So it came down to occlumency.

Lieselotte slammed the last book shut, glowering madly at the spiteful pile. She would have to be stronger, faster with her shields and more powerful than anyone attempting at their spells.

Somehow, she had to be stronger magically than Dumbledore. Or Voldemort.

It was a scary thought.

Brushing her obsidian colored hair off her face, she sighed softly, closing her eyes. She had a long way to go.

"Is everything alright?"

A flat voice brought her back, causing her to open her eyes. The voice had been almost emotionless, but she could sense hesitation, and a bit of concern. Definitely not Hermione.

At least it wasn't Ron. Or his sister.

To her surprise, it was Daphne Greengrass. Unconsciously, Lieselotte's eyebrows arched, and her mouth parting slightly.

"Greengrass?" She said, her tone colored with curiously. After all, it wasn't usual to have the 'Ice Queen' talk to just anyone, especially her. The 'Girl Who Lived.'

To some amusement, the girl flushed slightly, and Lieselotte suddenly had the idea that Daphne wasn't nearly as confident as she came off as.

"You just seemed frustrated," She offered hesitantly, then backed up. "Nevermind, it really doesn't matter.'

It was said so quickly, she barely understood it. But being around Hermione had its perks. The book-obsessed girl often got so excited, the words coming out of her mouth were almost unrecognisable.

So she gave the girl a warm smile, and patted the seat next to her. "No, not really. I just realized something I needed to do was going to take awhile for me to get it, and it might not even work."

"What's it about, if you don't mind me asking?" Daphne said, and it seemed she regained some of her usual personality.

Lieselotte didn't know how to answer that question. Or even where to start. But it came to her - that Daphne was Slytherin, and her family was neutral. She wasn't like Hermione, who idolized Headmaster and would tell him anything if asked. She could see past the filmy cobwebs.

She decided to start slow, though.

"I noticed you don't like Lockhart much," She said, leaning towards the blond girl.

Her lips pursed slightly, eyes narrowing. "You don't like the great fraud either. What's that have to do with this, anyways?"

A small smile pulled at Lieselotte's mouth, and she answered. "If you know he's a fraud, do you know how?" Eyes glittering with an emotion even unknown to her, she spoke again. "It seems our 'esteemed' professor is only good with one type of spells."

Daphne's gaze drew over the stack of books, eyes widening when she understood. Then she was suddenly laughing, light, pearly sounds that drew from her throat.

"He oblivates the people he steals the stories from?" She said, mid-gasp.

"I'm pretty sure," said Lieselotte. "Is it really that funny?"

Daphne waved her away, "It's just, I've been trying to convince Tracy that he's a total fake, but she won't believe me."

"Tracy Davis?" Lieselotte asked. She remembered that the two of them were always together, and they tended to stay away from Parkinson or Malfoy. She had seen them with more Ravenclaws than other Slytherins, now that she thought about it.

"Yep. She's obsessed with him." Daphne rolled her eyes.

She groaned, "So is Hermione. Everytime I try to talk to her it turns into a conversation about how brave and good looking our Professor is."

"Probably because Quirrell was the exact opposite," The Slytherin groused. Lieselotte thought of his second face, and burst into high-pitched giggles.

"Anyone could beat Quirrell," She agreed.

"So what's with all this, then?" Daphne gestured to the pile.

She hesitated for a moment, before speaking again. "Dumbledore. He's too interested in my fate, and he would use anything to ensure I did what he wants me to do."

Daphne looked shocked for a moment, before she growled. "I should have known it would be about _him_." Her voice practically dripped with disgust. "I just didn't think you would be able to see past his - ah-"

"Eccentric, grandfather facade?" Lieselotte offered. She was a bit stunned by how fierce the small, blond girl sounded at the moment, but it was nice to hear. "It took me less than a month."

She nodded, looking pleased. "That's good. Some of us were worried you'd be sucked in."

They were worried about her? Slytherins? "Some of you were worried," Lieselotte said coolly.

Daphne seemed to understand, "Just because you're the Girl-Who-Lived, doesn't mean we all hate you. Really though, killing a Dark Lord when you're one year's old? Something's off. I mean, I don't want to be rude but-"

She held up her hand, making a noise of agreement. "I get it. I doubt it was truly me, and probably some plot of Dumbledore's instead. Maybe some kind of sacrificial blood protection?"

The other girl shook her head, "I don't know."

"One more thing to look up, then," Lieselotte murmured, rising from her seat and putting the books back on the shelves.

"I could help you look later, if you want?" Daphne said, her voice a bit hesitant.

She turned, smiling softly. "That would be great, thank you."

The other girl looked greatly pleased by this, though she tried to hide it. But it would take more for Lieselotte to miss it.

"Talk to you later? I should probably go find Tracy," Daphne said, and Lieselotte nodded.

A smile bloomed on her face, before the blond girl disappeared between the stacks.

She didn't seem like she was trying to trick her, but Lieselotte was much too careful not to make sure.

She didn't simply pop into another's mind, as it was wrong to do so. She had promised herself only to use it when she needed too. To keep her safe. While checking Daphne that way would be easy, it would also make her feel guilty, if she heard something she shouldn't.

When she was finished putting back the thoroughly useless books, she noticed movement out of the corner of her eyes.

Lieselotte turned suddenly, hearing a squeak and caught sight of long red hair streaking away.

Sighing, she closed her eyes. Ginny again. The girl would not just leave her alone.

"Liselotte, is that you?"

She whirled around at the sound of Hermione's voice, smiling blindingly.

"So glad you're here. Ginny's stalking me again," She said, clinging to the other girl's arm.

Hermione frowned, a look of determination set on her face. "Why do you think she does that?"

She sighed wearily, "I don't know, but it's sure annoying."

"Do you want me to talk to her?" Hermione said. Lieselotte shook her head. "It won't make a difference. Something's off about her too, I can feel it."

"Off how?"

She shrugged, ignoring the chill she got when thinking about it. "I have no idea. Did you come find me for a reason or because you were bored?"

"Lieselotte!" She exclaimed, then quieted. "It's almost lunch, and I came to pull you away."

Laughing quietly, she nodded. "Alright, let's go then. The Grinny situation we can work out later."

They left the library, Lieselotte back in high spirits. It didn't take much though, when it came to her best friend.

A few weeks later and Daphne and her had gotten closer. She had even brought Tracy along, and they would caught up in academic arguments with Hermione, instead of researching. But Hermione didn't know exactly what they were doing, so Lieselotte couldn't blame her. Tracy was a lot more of a tomboy than her friend, but they both seemed into fashion. Lieselotte had a love for it as well, but every time she thought of it, fairy tale's ran amongst her thoughts, making her dream of the pretty look-alike girl and the horrible queen that wanted her dead.

She was rushing down the corridors towards dinner, when she heard a strange voice coming from the walls.

_{Rip tear you, come- sssearch me out} _And it disappeared around the corner. Lieselotte was frozen, breathing hard.

_{Who'sss there?} _She hissed, then flinched and understood it all at once. She was speaking snake language again. Lieselotte had learned of the particular skill while in the orphanage. When she found from one of the books she had bought from Diagon that Voldemort could too, she quickly pretended not to have the talent. Personally though, she rather enjoyed talking to snakes, even the most simple minded of ones. She didn't understand why people in the wizarding world thought that being a parselmouth made someone evil, but she had to avoid it getting out at all costs.

And that voice changed things. Whatever was in the wall was huge and it was starving.

Shaking her head of the thoughts, Lieselotte hurried along, ignoring the chill down her spine. It wasn't her problem.

At least not yet.

"What took you so long? Dinner already started," Hermione demanded, hands on her hips.

Fixing a smile on her face, Lieselotte laughed. "Just putting some books away? It that chicken? I love chicken," She said, ignoring Hermione's huff of annoyance.

A few minutes later she peered over the Slytherin table, waving at Daphne as she looked up. The blond girl smiled and waved back, before glaring at another girl sitting by her. She had an irritable, superior expression, and was hanging onto Draco Malfoy's arm. Of course it had to be Pansy Parkinson.

Draco kept trying to pull away, his mouth turning sour. Lieselotte held back a grin at his discomfort. They had had a rocky start in the beginning of first year, especially when her and Ron still hung out a bit. The Malfoy heir was too stuck on his beliefs, much like Ron was. When she had 'chosen' Ron instead, Draco had quickly become annoying. After she started ignoring the red-haired boy though, Draco had stopped making stupid remarks every time she was near him. Tolerance now stretched between them. And Lieselotte was just fine with that.

On the way back to the dorms, she almost ran into their house qhost. She just managed to twist out of the way, but a fourth year wasn't so lucky.

He made an odd sound in his throat, shivering slightly as he backed away and fled.

"Hello, Nick," She said agreeably as the corridor cleared out. She was alone, as Hermione had run off to the library as soon as dinner was over. Something about Transfiguration homework.

"Lieselotte Potter, strange to see you by yourself," He said heartily.

She shrugged, noncommittally, "I guess so. You seem to be upbeat."

He gave her a pale smile. "My five-hundredth deathday is coming up. Actually, if it's not a problem, would you be willing to attend? Lieselotte Potter at my deathday!"

She didn't even need to think. "Sure, I'll attend," She said quickly. If she could find a ghost who had seen the great snake in the castle before, she could figure out what it was.

"That is marvelous! Of course, it's on Halloween, so I can see you not wanting to attend in order to go to the feast..."

She shook her head, "No, it's alright. I'll come."

"Marvelous," He repeated, and his face brightened. "Now off you go."

Lieselotte gave the ghost a fake smile, before flitting from the corridor, trailing along the wall in hopes of hearing the voice again. If she could just talk to it...

When she finally got back to the dorms, Hermione was still out and Lieselotte had already finished her homework. The snake was nowhere to be found. She couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not.

After another run in with Ginny, and a surly Ron, she decided to call it a night. Ron and her weren't on the best terms, really. Ignoring him completely might have done the trick though.

Climbing under the covers of her bed, she thought once again of what Voldemort had said, down under the trapdoor.

"_What happened to the little Light that beats in your heart?"_

What did he mean by that? Had he been referring to her own magic, cast in a dark fog even before she had attended Hogwarts? She was supposed to be the savior of the light, but her magic had already gone dark when she had been young, even before the orphanage. She wasn't the savior for them, she knew that. It wasn't like she wanted to be their's either. But where did that leave her?

Sighing, Lieselotte curled up, burying her head in the pillow. She would think about it more later. She deserved to have some time as a normal twelve year old, and neither Dumbledore nor Voldemort could stop her from getting it.

* * *

The night of Nearly Headless Nick's deathday arrived quickly, and somehow she had managed to drag her friends along with her. The dungeon's were drafty, and the stone cold, but Lieselotte was determined.

"So why are you really doing this then?" Tracy asked, as she rubbed her arms viciously against the chill.

"Can't tell you for now, " Lieselotte sang back, and she breathed in relief when she saw hundreds of ghostly figures, and Nick standing by the door.

"Miss Potter, and friends," He said joyously, waving a transparent arm. "Come inside."

"Thank you," She said, before entering the room. She immediately picked out the ghosts that haunted the castle and left her friends behind, eyeing the rotten food.

Lieselotte seemed to talk to every ghost, and still, none of them had even seen or heard anything. It was hateful.

She tromped back to where Hermione, Daphne, and Tracy seemed to be arguing with another ghost.

"Peeves-" She heard, and with a chuckle, recognised the mischievous poltergeist.

"MYRTLE!" He called, and she watched as a ghost with a Hogwarts uniform on came out of the corner, glaring hatefully at him. Lieselotte was starting to get a bad feeling.

"What is it? What do you want with _me_?" She said, her voice watery.

Before Peeves could say anything horrible, Lieselotte interrupted.

"Myrtle, is it? Do you live in the castle?" She said with a glowing smile. Her friends shot her strange looks, but she ignored them for the moment.

The blubbering girl looked startled for a moment, then seemed to brighten. "Oh yes, since 1943, when I died."

"How did you die, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Lieselotte!" Hermione said, poking her in the side.

But Myrtle only giggled and said, "I died in the bathroom when I ran off from Olive Hornby who had been teasing me. I was sitting there, crying, and I heard something. It was a boy speaking, but it was strange. Not really a language, I guess."

The uncomfortable feeling Lieselotte had before only grew. She was beginning to understand.

"-and I looked up and saw huge, yellow eyes. Then I was dead," She declared, and everything seemed to fit into place.

"There's a basilisk slithering around in the pipes," She muttered, her tone disbelieving. And if a student died, then Dumbledore must have known about it. And yet he had left it living in Merlin knew where without food.

"What did you just say?" Daphne asked curiously, but Lieselotte shook her head.

"It's nothing. Thank you Myrtle," She said, addressing the ghost. She seemed to preen.

"Come visit my toilet anytime," The ghost said, almost cheerful now.

"Come on," Lieselotte murmured, pulling her friends along. Tracy seemed to take one, last look at the rotting food, and shivered.

"So are you going to tell us?" Daphne said, as they left the dungeons.

But Lieselotte wasn't paying attention. She could hear it again. _{Rippsss tear the flesssh-}_

She shook her head, glancing at the blond girl. "I will, but first we need to walk a little faster."

_ {Blood, fresssh and pretty-)_

Hermione looked startled, "Lieselotte, are you okay?"

"No," She said curtly, and continued around the corner.

_{Sssence me, look at me, eyesss watch me. Feed-}_

_Never._ Lieselotte was running now, and as she turned into the next corridor, she knew she would be too late.

The sight before them made Daphne gasp. It was Filch's cat, hanging from a lantern post. Above it, words were written in a dark, blotchy red. It looked a lot like blood. Like how Ben's blood had cooled as her feet as she stood stock still in-

"Oh god," She said, her voice full of horror.

**The chamber of secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware.**

Then a rumbling sound came from the direction of the Great Hall, students were coming through the hallway, and Liselotte dragged her friends into the crowd. She would not get caught up in this.

Silence rang through the corridor as students caught sight Mrs. Norris, and the bloody writing.

Lieselotte could hear her own ragged breathing as she tried to calm herself.

Then a sharp, but delighted voice rang out. "_Enemies of the Heir, beware_! It'll be the mudbloods then!"

It was the blond prat, of course.

"Shut up Draco." She snapped. "The Heir of Slytherin has returned." _And it's more than definitely become my problem._


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR.

Rating: T, maybe later M

Pairing: Fem!Harry/Tom Riddle

AN: Thanks for the reviews!

* * *

It was only seconds after Lieselotte's outburst that Filch tromped into the corridor, spittle flying.

"What are you all doing standing around here?" He snarled, his gaze hovering over Lieselotte and her friends. She stared coldly back, then jerked her head slightly to the bracket. His eyes bulged, expression unbelieving, and letting out a blood-curdling screech, he rushed over to the cat.

"Who did it?" He screamed when he came back to his senses. "Who killed Mrs. Norris?"

"What is all this noise, Argus?" A gentle voice said, and Lieselotte stiffened as Dumbledore came into view, a benevolent smile touching his lips.

The man shook with anger and pointed at the group of students. "One of them did it! I know-"

"Argus!" Dumbledore said, a bit more steel in his tone this time. He moved through the crowd and to the cat, which he plucked from its hanging.

"Just petrified," He announced after a moment, and Flitch sagged against the wall, smearing the bloody words. Lieselotte swallowed, memories threatening to pull her over the edge. Twelve years old, and yet she had seen more blood and filth than she would like to ever remember.

"Does anyone know anything about this?" The headmaster said, casting his gaze over the students, making most of them squirm. She was unaffected.

"They got my cat-" Flitch still raged, and Lieselotte's mouth twitched in amusement as her fear resided. The man really couldn't listen.

"She'll be back to normal in no time," Dumbledore said, "I will ask again, if any of you have any sort of idea…."

Lieselotte noticed to her horror that Hermione was looking at her, and when her hand started to flutter, she glared at the other girl, but promising to explain it to her later. She put her hand back down.

"Well, off you go to your Common Rooms. Minerva, Severus, we need to talk," He said, and gave the other professor's a pressing look, and before he was down the corridor again, robes swirling around him.

Most of the other students kept stock still until Flitch turned and snarled at them, face blotchy and red. "Didn't you hear what he said? Off to bed with you lot!" He hissed, and the children scurried off down the dark corridors. Hermione immediately grabbed onto Lieselotte's arm, and attempted to drag her along. Liselotte grasped onto Daphne and Tracey for support, but by their suspicious looks, she didn't think they were going to be much help.

She would have to give up one of her secrets.

"So what was that? You knew something was going to happen, didn't you?" Hermione demanded, when she shut the empty classroom door behind them.

Crossing her arms, Lieselotte attempted to twist her expression into one of confusion. Hermione just gave her a look, and she sighed, her mouth smoothing out and eyes turning cold.

"A few weeks ago I heard something in the walls speaking about ripping people open-" She started, but Tracey made an odd noise in her throat, wide eyes looking straight at her.

"What do you mean, 'ripping people'?" Daphne whispered. Her hand tightened on Lieselotte's arm and then loosened suddenly.

"Exactly what I meant," Lieselotte said, pulling herself onto the nearest desk. "It wanted to feed. I called out to it, but what I said - wait, this is coming out all wrong." She sighed again. "Don't freak out. I'm a parselmouth."

Like she had expected, their faces paled, but she was relieved none of them seemed to be going for the door. She could have tried to obliviate them, but she didn't know how strong she would have had to make it, and from seeing what even Lockhart could do with it, Lieselotte wasn't sure she wanted her first victims of it to be her friends.

"I've been ever since I could remember. Since it obviously didn't come from my own family history, then I think I got it from Voldemort- _flinch -_ somehow," She finished, ignoring the not-so-subtle fear the three of them got when she said the man's name.

"How is that possible?" Daphne asked, "How would you get something like parseltongue from a scar," and immediately the three of them looked to it. She rubbed it unconsciously.

"I don't know. But that isn't really important. The point is that I realized it was a giant snake, and so when I dragged you guys to the Nearly Headless Nick's-"

"You were trying to figure out if any of them had seen it," Hermione said, cutting her off. Lieselotte nodded.

"And then later you heard it again, in the walls?" Tracey said.

"Heir of Slytherin," Lieselotte murmured, her eyes catching theirs. "The snake's a thousand years old or so, guessing from that title, the size of the snake, and what the snake actually is. There is a basilisk hunting in Hogwarts, if you haven't already guessed." Lieselotte's lips curved, unable to stop herself. Her personality was constantly conflicted, and the simple idea of it was horrible. On the other hand though, the part that fought for her survival, that ripped into other minds, that part was curious about it. Who was the Heir? What were they truly doing here in such a place?

So _many _questions_._

"If you know, then why hasn't Dumbledore done anything about it?" Hermione said, her eyes narrowed slightly. Lieselotte broke out of her own spinning thoughts, and grimaced just as the two slytherin girls did.

"Hermione," Lieselotte started out, hesitant. This conversation would have had to happen someday, she just didn't know if that night was the best time. But she had no choice.

"How do you think I got past all the traps under the trapdoor," She said, changing the subject.

Hermione shook her head slightly, and the slytherin's perked up. Unlike what rumors wanted them to think, no one truly knew what had happened the year before.

"Why would you ask me-"

"Just humor me then," said Lieselotte.

Hermione threw up her hands, "I don't know, you didn't really tell me."

"_Lieselotte Potter, do you wish to know what happened that night? Ten years ago, when I disappeared and that scar-"_

She quickly shook her head. "How do you think a eleven year old girl got through the traps on her own when they were set for Voldemort and created by Dumbledore himself?"

"It was a trap," She said automatically.

"But a trap for what?" Daphne said suddenly, and Lieselotte turned, meeting her gaze. The Greengrass heiress obviously understood.

"For You-Know-Who, of course," Hermione answered, and she slowly shook her head.

"No, Hermione," Lieselotte said quietly. "It wasn't for him. It was for me to meet Voldemort. I don't know why, but Dumbledore wanted me to meet him."

"But why? He wouldn't do that-"

"Hermione, I'm sorry to have to say this, but you really shouldn't believe everything you see at first notice. Dumbledore is a very powerful wizard, but he isn't a saint." At the end, Daphne's mouth curved into a sneer. "I won't tell you everything he's done, but that's only because we'd be here all night."

"He's really not a good person?" She said, and all of a sudden, she looked very small.

"No, he isn't. Not really," Lieselotte said. "The incriminating things he's done speak for themselves. If you ever have time, go look at the bills he's tried or has passed since gaining his power." She let out a rugged bark of laughter. "You'd be surprised."

She was silent for a moment before speaking again. "Then what does it all mean?"

Lieselotte rolled onto the pads of her feet as she lifted herself off the desk. "It means the headmaster knows exactly what's hunting in the walls, but isn't going to raise a finger to stop it."

"What do we do?" She said, and the bushy haired girl suddenly looked determined.

She was going to end it with a heavy phrase.

"Nothing," Lieselotte said simply. "Absolutely nothing at all."

The girls' mouth hung open at that, but Daphne smoothed it over.

"Let's just all get back to our common rooms, and talk about this later, alright?" She said, and Hermione slowly nodded after a moment.

The four of them headed towards the door, and when the two slytherin's headed off in the opposite direction, Hermione turned to her.

"What really happened under the trapdoor?" She said softly. Memories bloomed behind her eyes, lighting up her thoughts with glistening potions, thick, twisting roots, the mirror that showed her greatest desire, wet crimson dripping pat, pat, pat to the floor-

"_If I give this to you, what do I gain in return?"_

"I don't want to talk about it," Lieselotte snapped, then her gaze softened when she saw Hermione flinch. She sighed.

"Look, it's something I don't like thinking about, okay? Quirrell died-" She broke off, jumbled thoughts pushing into her skull. _I killed him._

"No, it's alright," Hermione said with a faint, sad smile. "I shouldn't have asked something like that."

"We'll talk about it one day," Lieselotte promised suddenly. It was the truth, but it wasn't going to be that day that night. It could take years, but the truth would come out.

Hermione wrapped her arms around the other girl, and she flinched unconsciously at it, Hermione looking all the more sad.

"I'm sorry you had to go through it alone," She said.

"I wouldn't have inflicted it on you, or anyone else."

Hermione sighed, "I know. I still wish you hadn't done it."

_Sometimes I wish the same thing. _"I'm fine. We should probably get up to the dorms before Mcgonagall tracks us down."

"Professor Mcgonagall, Lieselotte," Hermione said, and for a moment there was a pause, before they both laughed quietly.

"We're okay?" Hermione asked.

Lieselotte nodded, "Yeah, we're okay."

* * *

"Why are you here at the library again, Lieselotte? You missed dinner," Daphne said, huffing slightly as she plopped into the seat next to her. She didn't even look up, too immersed in her book to have any interest in the other girl.

"Lieselotte!"

She finally looked up. "What?" she said, her tone vaguely irritated.

"You missed dinner."

The dark haired girl shrugged. "I'll get something from the kitchens later."

There was silence for a moment.

"You know where the kitchens are?" Daphne was gaping, looking quite unlike herself. Lieselotte laughed. "Found them first week here. " She shut her book, as she knew she wouldn't be getting anymore done.

"It's supposed to be a huge secret though," The blond girl said.

"The Weasley twins knew about it before me."

She was waved away. "Yes, but those two don't count. They know where _everything _is. I swear, I'm pretty sure they know where the Slytherin dorms are. I've seen them hanging around there a few times."

Liselotte shook with laughter at her harassed friend. "It really bothers you?"

"Just think of what they could do!" She hissed.

Raising an eyebrow, she said, "Oh yes, turning your hair red and gold really is _such_ a hardship."

"It didn't come out for weeks!"

The dark haired girl rolled her shoulders back, "Draco was asking for it. Besides, everyone but him found it funny. Even you."

Her lips quirked at the memory. "I suppose." Her eyes suddenly lit up. "I completely forgot what I wanted to tell you. My family is hosting a Yule ball, and I was wondering if you would like to come? I know it's far off, but all the invitations are to be sent off soon, so I need you answer pretty soon."

"I'd love to come," Liselotte said with a pretty smile. Suddenly her mind was on all those stories of winter and snow and enchanting balls. Fairy tales with beautiful horses and coaches and- _Snow White._ Her lips curved.

"….that's great-" Daphne was saying, but Lieselotte barely heard a word. She was excited all of a sudden, and for the first time, she was looking forward to holidays.

"Can you dance?" came the Greengrass heiress's question, and Lieselotte's head turned to her.

"What?" She said.

"Can you dance?" Daphne said, looking expectant.

"Yes, I can. Very well, actually."

Daphne looked faintly surprised at that.

"There was a man who visited the Orphanage and he taught me once he knew I had an interest in it." She shrugged, but the other girl didn't look convinced. Lieselotte didn't blame her, it wasn't the truth after all.

"For nothing in return?"

The truth was not something she wanted to share. That man hadn't been pure. She had caught his attention, but by then she had full control over her _gift_. The man had become a puppet for a short while, teaching her all sorts of dances in exchange for her not alerting what he had done to other children. It was mostly innocent, but Lieselotte could see it in his eyes. The man would break his promises to himself, they always did in the end.

It was a period of time she wasn't proud of. She had had no idea of her being able to escape that life, so she made the best of it.

But she had been cruel. So, so cruel, sometimes.

"He was trying to find his lost daughter. I reminded him of her."

"I don't believe you."

She cocked her head slightly, peridot eyes staring out from beneath inky black lashes. "Then don't."

They stared at one another, neither backing down until the blond girl sighed.

"He didn't do anything to you, right?"

Lieselotte's eyes frosted over. "He wouldn't have dared," she snarled.

Daphne seemed relieved. "Thank Merlin," She said, and her eyes lit up in surprise.

The slytherin caught sight of her gaze and seemed to understand. "You're not alone. Hermione cares about you, I care about you. Even Tracey, if you would let her. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

"Thank you," Lieselotte whispered. It was an odd thing to hear for her, but she didn't doubt it.

Daphne rose from her seat, her expression lightning. "Now where is Hermione, anyways?"

"I think she's working on the Transfiguration essay."

"Still?" Daphne huffed. Lieselotte laughed. "I think she's added on another extra five inches since you've last seen her."

"Doesn't she realize Professor Mcgonagall doesn't want to read all that?" She sighed. "Oh nevermind. I need to speak to her. Can you help me find her?"

Lieselotte got to her feet, putting the book back on the shelf next to her. "Alright, I should get away from here for a bit, anyways."

"The way you go on, I'm starting to think you would have been better suited for Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor."

"It wasn't even an option for me," She said.

"Really?"

Lieselotte shook her head, "I don't like to gain knowledge for the right reasons, or something. At least, that's what the hat said."

They made it out of the library before Daphne spoke again. "What do you mean by that?"

Lieselotte didn't speak for a moment.

"Ravenclaws like knowledge, they like learning and ideas and their books."

Daphne peered curiously at her. "What's it for you, then?"

"Knowledge is the beginning to power," was all that she said.


End file.
